Pair of Queens
by Wendy Pierce
Summary: (POK PLOT TWIST REWRITE) Twin sisters Mikayla and Rebecca Parker are livin' it up in Chicago. At least as much as your average high school juniors can. Then on a winter evening comes a man to deliver news that will rock their world...
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1**

**Dodgeball and Heirs**

There was a day of the week that everyone absolutely despised.

Every student generally agreed Monday was the worst, given that it indicated not only the beginning of the week, but also the first day back to school after a dreamlike weekend. Some people couldn't stand Tuesday because to them it was like a repeat of Monday-the week wouldn't get any better just because you were given another chance at a beginning. Wednesdays were nonnegotiable living nightmares. Existing in the middle of the week, Wednesday was in the middle of the scale, one end marking two days to suffer through, and the other end marking two more days until freedom. Wednesday stretched the longest and was the most tantalizing of days. Then there were a few rare people who actually despised Friday. Finally, school would let out and the weekend would belong to the students yet some couldn't tolerate—much less think of—that day in a positive light. Fridays were cursed test days where you'd either be forced to study for a test the night before (because you'd spent most of the week bitterly cursing at the previous days), or receive a test you know you would fling into the trash can to keep snooping parents from finding the proof of your ultimate failure.

For Mikayla Parker, the worst day of the week would have to be Thursday.

Dodgeball Day.

Shivering in her school issued gym clothes, she scurried to the corner of the gymnasium as soon as the coach made the announcement. As much as she had wanted to leave the room altogether, participation was mandatory during P.E.

"But," the coach's voice boomed, reaching the students who lounged around the area. By his foot sat a cart of bright red balls-the shiny weapons that they will be assaulted with. Mikayla cowered at the thought of it colliding with her face. "The blacktop's covered in snow so you sorry misfits will have to play against the football team!"

The smile that graced his lips-sharp and merciless-was enough of a warning for Mikayla. A group of beefy teenage boys dressed in various exercise gear muscled their way into the room, bringing in the stench of rotting fear (or it might have been their natural B.O).

The coach drifted off to the sidelines. Once the shrill call of his whistle filled the air, there would be no survivors. This was no longer a high school gym class. This was a battleground.

Mikayla didn't hesitate. Once the first ball went sailing-a blinding bomb of pure destruction-she ducked behind her classmates, a tactic she'd developed back in middle school. If you didn't want to die of an injury-or worse: a public shaming by fellow classmates-you'd make do and become a chameleon.

Everything seemed to work out just fine. Behind her unsuspecting human shields, Mikayla didn't feel the impact of a blow once. She danced and dodged around the perimeter of the gym, narrowly avoiding her doom.

Until there was one left standing.

Her.

Her classmates sprawled on the ground, groaning and whining. Some held their injured ligaments while others weakly crawled away from the fray like roaches escaping an exterminator. Discarded balls gathered at her feet, their target already reached. On the other side of the gym, staring down at her with different levels of glee and confusion, were the unharmed football players.

The momentary shock passed and the football players began retrieving the nearest ball they could get their grubby, greedy hands on. A few took their time, assessing which strike to use against their last victim. A side hurl? A dunk? Or one that went straight for the guts?

Whatever conclusion they came to, Mikayla didn't want to live long enough to know.

Shooting a nervous smile at her assailants, then one to the coach, she turned on her heels and booked it straight to the girls' locker room. The balls roared like a hale storm as they bounced off the walls but never made contact with her person. The sound would echo in her ears for the rest of the day until next week brought it again.

—

"My girl is the coolest!" exclaimed Rebecca over lunch later that day.

The cafeteria was brimming with students fleeing from the cold so her and Mikayla hid out in the hallway. If it were up to Mikayla, they would be buried behind the ancient shelves of their school's library yet because Rebecca couldn't spend the time sitting on the bleachers, admiring the boy's basketball team, the two had to find a perfect balance. That was how they found themselves sitting with their backs against the row of lockers in the juniors hallway.

Mikayla dug her face into her open thermos. The stem that arose from the noodle soup warmed her burning cheeks. "I didn't do anything."

"You beat Middleton High's junior varsity football team," Rebecca insisted. "This calls for a victory celebration!"

"Becky," Mikayla said. "I didn't win. I used my classmates to defend myself and then ran for it when there was no one left. I didn't even get some hits in. There's nothing to celebrate."

"Come on now, Kayla," Rebecca backfired, using her nickname. "It takes some courage to stand up to those meat heads. And now you're the one who can say they lived to see another day after going against them."

"I guess." Mikayla finally gave into Rebecca's urging. She let the other girl give a celebratory cry. Once Rebecca launched into a cheery song that required clapping too many times and spinning her fists in the air, Mikayla didn't have the heart to stop her. Rebecca wasn't on the cheerleading squad for nothing-she took her enthusiasm with her to the games and everywhere else.

Mikayla suppressed an eye roll she knew would come, but let a smile grace her lips naturally. What could she do?

Eventually, Rebecca toned it down. She bit into her grilled cheese sandwich, her fists moving to a rhythm only she knew.

Mikayla looked over her. Born twins, the similarities between them was indistinguishable if you only paid attention to their physical complexion. Rebecca's darker tone contrasted with the porcelain white of Mikayla's skin. Mikayla always wore her light brown hair in a messy bun while Rebecca's black hair sparkled with whatever hair product their family could afford. Rebecca was the shorter of the two and used her flexibility to assist her during her cheers. Mikayla towered a foot over her, her limbs too long to be of any use. The only purpose she found with her slender body was compartmentalizing. Shrinking into an armadillo came in handy when she needed to use others as shields or make a quick escape by slinking beneath the bathroom stalls. As for the similarities that weren't visible, they were as blaring as the headlights of a train passing through a dark tunnel.

"Hey Becky."

Mikayla murmured the words so softly that she didn't expect Rebecca to have heard her at all. But Rebecca stopped moving and slid her eyes over to Mikayla. "Yeah?"

"You're pretty cool too."

Rebecca flipped a strand of hair over her shoulder. She gave Mikayla a toothy grin. "I know."

Both girls shook with laughter, the force of the action sending them tumbling into each other. The rest of lunch was spent in a companionable, yet silly, silence.

—-

The subway car rattled noisily as it traveled underground. Fluorescent lighting caked the regular riders in a neon orange that reflected the general discomfort of anyone who ever had the misfortune of riding the old metal tube. But the streets were more clogged, rush hour inviting a host of headaches and screeching car horns. Despite the subway channels being clogged as well, it was a relatively peaceful method of travel compared to the nightmare that was being unleashed above. A few extra bodies crammed into the narrow space that evening, pushing against the Parker twins.

Mikayla couldn't hear the complaint other passengers sent her way. Her ears covered by a headphone set that was probably older than her—given how clunky it was—she lost herself in the world of thumping drums and a pulsing melody. Her hand fastened around a pole when a group of teenagers hustled past her to get to the other end of the car.

"Coach Leda needs to take a vacation. Like, right now." Some distance away from her, Rebecca gossiped away on her phone, probably conversing with another member of the cheer squad. Her words didn't register with Mikayla as the other girl never invested her time in idle chatter. "Her drills are getting more painful with each practice. And we're only cheerleaders. The woman acts like we're going to the army or something!"

Rebecca nodded her head furiously at the response that followed. "I know, right?"

Her sudden outburst gained some looks from other passengers yet the girl still went on. After a hearty (and lengthy) exchange of goodbyes, Rebecca hung up. She continued to toggle with the phone, doing god knows what. Mikayla would bet she was continuing the conversation over text or scrolling through her socials to keep tabs on her friends.

Mikayla smiled at her sister. Unlike her, Rebecca had a chain of friends outside of the family. It wasn't a side effect of hanging around popular kids. Mikayla would argue that Rebecca has the amount of friends she does because there was something so likable about her. Whether it was her award winning smile or how easily she'd handle the flow of a conversation, there was always something that attracted people to her sister like bees to honey.

After several years of searching for the perfect friend, Mikayla only found one in Rebecca.

But today, a new feeling sunk into the pits of Mikayla's stomach. She couldn't put a name to the emotion that pressed against the walls of her skin, threatening to break free from her veins and consume her entire being. She pushed down the sudden uneasiness until she could look at her sister without feeling like a spider of jealousy was crawling up her throat.

"Got plans for the rest of the week?" She directed the question to Rebecca, who claimed a row of seats all for herself. Mikayla had given up her seat to an elderly woman who heavily supported her weight on a cane.

"We gotta study for the French test tomorrow," Rebecca's response came a little delayed.

"You have to," Mikayla corrected her.

"Yeah, yeah," Rebecca dismissed her with a wave of her hand. "Some of us spend our time actually living and not planning everything to a t."

"I don't plan out everything."

"Give me your agenda, then." Rebecca sat up straighter and eyed her sister-she was issuing a challenge. "Who color codes as much as you do? And you've got an entire system of post-it notes!"

"Some of us want to ensure that we're not behind on classes," Mikayla murmured.

"Oh, what about that science project you said was due at the end of the month? I'm pretty sure you're already done with that."

"Okay, I get it. I may over-plan things sometimes."

"An entire semester's worth of homework done in advance isn't sometimes."

"I was just thinking," Mikayla steered the conversation back onto topic before it diverged even more. "Maybe we could do something this weekend. Together. Like go catch a movie or something?"

"Oh," Rebecca sank back into her seat, pensive. "Me and some girls from the squad wanted to go to the mall this weekend. Formal's coming up soon and we want to get new dresses."

"Okay. Have fun." Mikayla was quick to dismiss the conversation, and any thought of fun they would have. Guess that would have to wait until next weekend, where the offer would probably be rejected again due to Rebecca's cheerleading practice.

"You should come with," Rebecca said, taping away on her phone again. "I know you don't like dressing up or parties or the corny music they'll play but I can't leave my girl alone."

Mikayla stared out the glass windows. Darkness pressed into the car, eventually giving way to natural light. The train gradually slowed down. Passengers shuffled about to collect their belongings as the overhead speaker crackled to life, monotonously delivering a safety speech that Mikayla knew by heart.

For a moment, she let herself step into Rebecca's shoes. Imagine what it would be like to have a steady friend group. To make lunch dates with and to stay up all night, video chatting about the most meaningless of things until one of them fell asleep from exhaustion. She momentarily fancied the idea of having a crush on another classmate, and blushing whenever their name was brought up. Maybe then she'd have a reason to go to school events and pretend to care about everything. But the fantasy melted away once the double doors slid open.

"Your girl will be fine," Mikayla lied.

Together, the sisters shuffled off board with the rest of the passengers. An eternity on the escalator up and they surfaced into the world of a dying sun and blinding store lights. The two turned north down Quarter street, the shouts of pedestrians filling the gap between them.

Rebecca hadn't removed her nose from her phone and still taped urgently into the open message app.

Mikayla sighed. She reached over and placed her hand over the screen.

Rebecca stopped in her tracks. "Huh?" Her eyes clouded with a far away gaze that only students perfected.

"You're gonna run into someone if you keep up with that," Mikayla warned.

Rebecca snorted, "I know what I'm doing."

Just as she said that, Rebecca turned back to her phone only to get trampled by posy of kids no older than twelve. As they passed, one kid swiveled in Rebecca's direction to throw an obscene at her. Rebecca clutched her chest in shock.

"Told you." Mikayla bounced on the pads of her feet, smug and satisfied.

"Alright, Ms. Kayla," Rebecca grumbled as she powered the phone off and slid it into her pocket. They crossed a street before she spoke up. "Is it your turn to help Aunt Nancy with dinner tonight?"

Within their sixteen years of existence, all the girls have known since they were able to talk were their legal guardians on their mom's side: Aunt Nancy and Uncle Bill. Neither of the girls had the ability to meet their biological parents in the flesh as they had passed away when they were mere infants. Nancy and Bill were reluctant enough to adopt their nieces and raise them as their own. Aunt Nancy would always tell Rebecca and Mikayla stories about how perfect their parents were while Uncle Bill swore to them that despite him not knowing his in laws while they were still alive, their parents would be proud of their two daughters regardless.

Down at the end of Quarter street, nestled in an alleyway a distance away from all the liveliness Chicago had to bring, sat a brownstone that Aunt Nancy and Uncle Bill had settled into for years since their marriage. For Mikayla, that was a place to call home. She couldn't begin to imagine how different her and her sister's life would be if they didn't find comfort in the modest home with relatives who felt like her own parents. The winter wind bit at her skin but her cheeks flushed with genuine gratitude.

"We have to do it together tonight," Mikayla said after double checking her mental calendar.

Rebecca muttered a curse. "I've got that French test to study for. Remember? I'm busy."

Mikayla lowered her eyebrows, unable to follow Rebecca's line of thought. "And?"

"And," Rebecca paused. A devilish smile slid across her lips and she began bouncing. "How 'bout this: whoever makes it to the front door last helps Aunt Nancy all by themselves!"

Mikayla didn't get a moment to register her words before Rebecca bolted around the corner, running through the evening crowd like a bullet. Mikayla growled a curse of her own and raced after her sister.

She saw Rebecca's long black tresses drifting in the wind, trailing after her. Mikayla could have closed the distance between them and ended this little game, but a new determination flared in her chest. She cut through the crowd, dipping into a narrow alleyway found between a barber shop and a grocery market. With the way Rebecca was going, the other girl would have to turn another two corners before reaching the house. Luckily for Mikayla, she knew the best shortcuts in town.

Mikayla emerged at the other opening within no time. Glancing both ways, she was relieved to find that Rebecca hadn't caught up yet. Giving a breathless laugh, Mikayla walked the rest of the way to the steps of their house. She marched up and leaned against the banister, supporting her weight.

"How?" A voice cried.

Mikayla turned her head to find Rebecca a few feet away, a look of anguish overtaking her features. "Maybe don't be so impulsive." She advised Rebecca as she pushed off the bannister. She reached into her pocket to produce a house key.

Rebecca stuck out her tongue in retaliation. She joined Mikayla by the front door, a string of complaints spilling from her mouth.

Mikayla filtered out the rant as she pushed open the door, giving them access to the family room.

"Hello girls," the voice of their aunt greeted them.

"Hello Aunt Nancy," the girls returned, ready to settle in. But as soon as they stripped themselves of their school bags and overcoats, they were stopped in their tracks.

Needless to say, nothing unusual has ever occurred within the walls of the brownstone. Like any other household, it held the basic necessities: rooms to make memories in and rooms to hide secrets in. Warmth and love was a guarantee so long as Aunt Nancy and Uncle Bill worked hard to promote it in their nieces. Yet the house fell into an unnerving silence that winter day.

In the family room, Uncle Bill took his place on the recliner found across the room. Today he didn't offer any remedies nor did he complain about recent events only men his age seemed to care about. Aunt Nancy stood at the mouth of the door that led to the rest of the house, ready to flounce about the place if needed but today she kept still.

Mikayla wondered what had caused such a scene. Even if the world ended tomorrow, her guardians wouldn't abruptly stop their daily activities. They wouldn't stop for time and time wouldn't stop for them.

She and Rebecca soon found an answer when their eyes followed Uncle Bill's to the man sitting on the couch. Decked out in tropical gear from head to toe, the stranger took up most of the space on the love seat with his hulking frame that would make any body builder seethe with jealousy. Black hair shaved close to his scalp and lips pressed into a stoic expression, the man nodded in apprehension at the girls.

"Mikayla and Rebecca Parker," his voice rumbled like distant thunder. Placing his (equally massive) hands on his thighs and pushing off the couch, he towered over them at an impressive height. "It is an honor to meet you at last."

"Who are you?" Rebecca took the initiative first, asking what both sisters desperately needed to know.

"My name is Mason Makoola," the man offered. His face remained neutral but his eyes glowed with excitement. Excitement for what, however, Mikayla couldn't tell.

She slowly edged away, her mind forming an escape plan. The rest of the house wasn't a possibility as she'd have to get through her guardians and Mason to reach her room. She didn't feel up to trampling people after almost getting concussed in gym that morning. Then there was the front door that was still at her back. Closed, but they hadn't set the locks into place yet. She could slip out. Stay out for a few hours. Her last option was to rip open the nearest window and dive into the streets. But the window was painted shut and even if Mikayla could pry it open, she'd risk getting lectured by Aunt Nancy for letting a draft get in while the heater ran. Decidedly, unlike gym this morning, she couldn't flee to save herself. She remained planted right by her sister's side to hear what Mason would say. Partially it was done out of curiosity because no one that sane would wear summer clothes in the middle of a brutal winter and talk to a family such as Mikayla's. But it was also done out of politeness.

And as if the confusion Mikayla felt wasn't enough, the man pressed a hand to his heart and lowered himself down to one knee. Her eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, heart thundering with fear. She momentarily debated whether she could throw her backpack at the window and hastily climb out from between the shards.

If Mason noticed something amiss, he didn't break his perfect composure to point it out. "You are the rightful heirs to the throne of Kinkow. I am here to take you home."


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

**KINKOW**

Brady ran his fingers through his hair. Catching his reflection in the bathroom mirror, he repeated the action with more urgency. Again and again and again until his raven black hair became disheveled and fell into his eyes. He checked himself once more: hair that looked the right amount of tousled, a t-shirt and pair of shorts that reminded people of his youth, and the machete tucked into a sheath at his waist.

Brady saw himself reach for the hilt of the weapon. His fingers tightened around the brown leather, curling around the bumpy and worn down fabric.

This wasn't his first weapon. He had spent his childhood surrounded by prickly objects that boys of his age either yielded with unbridled confidence or cowered away from. His first weapon was made out of wood and blunt, wrapped with thick cotton. He used to take it around with him everywhere—at the dinner table, where he'd lay it across his lap as he ate; during the night when he'd tuck it under his pillow because his father always told him to never leave himself defenseless; and during most of his childhood, where he pretended to be the knight to the kids who were younger than him. His favorite pastime was role playing because he could imagine being strong enough to protect those dearest to him. Young and determined, he would hold the power to make the evil disappear with a single swipe of his arm and his loved ones would never trouble themselves with the fear that came with the dangers of the island.

But any gratification Brady received from boyish dreams washed away the older he got.

Ever since the day that took the lives of several people, including the King and Queen, nothing on Kinkow had ever been the same. Brady's friends were gone, taken to a far away place so someone else could protect them. His mom was no longer there either; just a remembered smile and a warm hug that made his skin itch for more.

His father decided his fate for him. Brady learned how to make a fist and throw a punch that would land. He learned the sensitive parts of the body; how to disorient someone by using a well placed kick. His toy sword became a bow, then a spear, then a machete. He knew how to parry and block a sword attack. He could draw blood, if he needed to. Brady went from a fantastical knight to one of Kinkow's top guards. And he was only a teenager.

Gritting his teeth, he pushed his hair out of his face and marched out of the bathroom without a second glance at himself.

He took the grand steps that lead down to the main room of the castle, known best as the throne room. Plush red cushions provided padding for couches cut from stone. A chandelier hung on thick chains overhead, unlit due to the morning light streaming in through the wide openings in the walls. And at the head of the room, placed in such a way that you couldn't peer into the room without seeing it, was a single chair, raised and carved more delicately than anything else in the room: the throne.

Guards stood at attention, flocked by the entrances. When they nodded at Brady, the boy returned the gesture.

Then voices floated to him from the dining hall. Brady stopped dead in his tracks.

He was certain that the voices didn't belong to any of the castle's staff. People hardly spoke around here, trained early to never raise their voice in front of a royal unless permitted to. It didn't matter whether or not they liked to talk. They never really had much to say anyway.

But the delighted, airy voice that was met with a quieter, more critical one reminded Brady that the island was no longer trapped in its period of reconstruction. It also reminded him of the events that took place yesterday evening. The princesses were finally home. No, not princesses. Starting today, they were now Kinkow's Queens.

Brady felt his chest swell with pride while his face grew hot. Yesterday, when the girls had arrived via hot air balloon, they were frazzled. Servants immediately flocked their side, showering them with flower necklaces, fruits, and other assortment of gifts.

The girls reacted differently to the island. There was Rebecca, a dark skinned beauty, who held her mouth agape and never gained the ability to crank it shut. Her shrill voice made Brady's bones vibrate under his skin. Rebecca was the first to ask questions, and hungrily ate everything, from food to information. She more or less dangled off Brady's shoulders while the boy gave them a tour of the castle. It was then and there that Brady decided he would not talk to the girl unless she was in a neutral state.

That is, if someone like Rebecca possessed that sort of state.

Then, standing off to the side, quiet but restless, head sweeping the area again and again as if she was looking for something important, was Rebecca's sister, Mikayla. Mikayla hadn't said much, only speaking up to scold Rebecca. Not once did she meet Brady's eyes, but the boy believed she hadn't really looked at anyone. When Brady took them up to their room, located at the very top of the castle, the girl had finally spoken more than a few syllables.

"Mom and dad," she had murmured, eyes locking on the painting that hung on the wall above the pool table. "Where did you go? Who are you?"

Perhaps the words were just meant for her. A secret mystery that she stumbled upon and a mystery she would solve on her own. Maybe they were words meant to be shared with Rebecca, a private moment that could only occur between siblings.

But Rebecca had disappeared further into the room, probably to admire the gold plated bathroom and Brady couldn't sit by idly. Mikayla's eyes clouded with a distant gaze. Her brows furrowed and her lips sunk into a deep frown.

"More than ten years ago, there was a war on Kinkow," Brady had whispered the words so as to not startle her. He leaned against the pool table to get a better look at her face. Not like he'd get much of a view; her long mousy brown hair seemed intentionally positioned so that getting a taste of her side profile was near impossible. "The castle was attacked. It's taken more than a decade of reconstruction to return Kinkow to its former glory. But we suffered casualties, including the King and Queen—your parents."

Finally, Mikayla's eyes slid from the painting to Brady. She didn't speak or look away. She just stared at him.

It made him feel like an idiot. Brady drew away from her and let his fingers tease at his belt.

Rebecca had chosen then to come out of the bathroom, arms full with mounds of toilet paper. "Kayla, you gotta feel these! It's heavenly."

When Mikayla didn't respond, eyes still locked on Brady's frame, Rebecca turned to look at him too.

Brady didn't doubt that he was blushing. The heat in his face must have come from somewhere, a source called embarrassment. A helpless stutter tied to Brady's voice when he had said, "Your coronation is tomorrow. Kinkow—your villagers—everyone...they can't wait to see their Queens."

He had continued his tour, avoiding Mikayla, and verbally tripping over his words.

Regardless of his behavior yesterday, Brady still had a job to do. Who knew what his dad would do if he knew Brady decided to skip a day on the job, but since his dad is the reason he earned this position in the first place, Brady didn't want to find out. He took a shaky breath and marched in the direction of the voices.

"Brady!" A shrill voice assaulted his ears as soon as he stepped into the dining room. The owner of the voice, Rebecca, sat directly opposite of him on the long table. She waved her arm in the air urgently, gaining the boy's attention.

Across from her, Mikayla turned in her seat to glance at him, but she went right back to lifelessly stabbing the food on her plate with a fork.

Brady pretended his heart didn't ache like the eggs she assaulted. He bowed at the waist. "Good morning, my Queens."

"Good morning, Brady," the girls chorused.

"Brady." Rebecca said, no less energetic than she had been the prior day. "What fruit is Kinkow best known for?"

Startled by the question, Brady took a few moments to digest her question. "Bananas. There are many things the island grows, but the farmers are best known for cultivating bananas. We also grow coconuts and it's found in almost everything—food, drinks, even in our hair products."

"Thank you, Brady," Rebecca said, giving Mikayla a knowing look.

Mikayla heaved a sigh. She reached for the fruit platter placed in the middle of the table and grabbed a banana. "Happy?" She asked her sister as she peeled open the skin of the fruit.

"Fabulously so," Rebecca admitted, smiling. She turned back to Brady. "Are you hungry? I'm starving after being stuck on that balloon for three days. But I can't eat all this."

Rebecca gestured to the table before her. The chef hadn't just given the girls breakfast, Brady noted. He gave them three full course meals. There was a plate stacked high with pancakes, one with toast, one with salad, and one with a full cooked chicken.

"I'm sorry, my Queen, but I can't." Brady bowed only his head this time. "Servants aren't allowed to share meals with the royal family. And I'm just a guard."

Rebecca waved a hand dismissively before her face. "Oh Brady, why are you so formal with us? You're, like, the youngest person here. Aren't we the same age?"

"I'm seventeen."

"Only a year older than us!" Rebecca exclaimed. Her smile reached the tip of her ears. "Come on, Brady. Who's gonna stop you from sitting with us? Kayla and I are in charge now. If people got something to say about the rules, they better get ready 'cause they have to go through us."

Brady scratched the back of his neck. If this was how Rebecca would reign over Kinkow, he was kind of scared.

"I will stay here until you've finished, but I can't eat with you." Brady decided out loud. He honed a stoic expression that would make his father proud, but his face itched as though he was bitten by a Waka Waka bug. It didn't feel right. "There is something I forgot to show you yesterday and it's important I show it to you before your coronation later today."

The girls nodded in agreement and turned back to their plates.

Brady dragged his fingers along the leather of his belt, back and forth, as he stood by the entrance. He spent the next hour suppressing any butterflies that swarmed through his stomach.

* * *

After breakfast, Brady led the girls to the throne room.

"What's left to see, Brady?" Rebecca inquired.

Brady stepped up to one of the walls. The stone here was carved deeper than the rest of the wall and had a vague outline of a rectangular door. A single line zigzagged right down the middle of it, implying an opening between two parts of the wall. Next to this was a small electrical panel with a keypad. Brady pressed a memorized code into the keypad.

The wall slid apart at the zigzag, revealing the contents behind—

"Gold?" Rebecca asked. Then she cried, "Gold!"

Brady automatically sidestepped the second he saw the ball of red, brown excitement hurling towards him. He turned to Mikayla without meaning to, but from her lack of movement, it was clear that she would do nothing to stop Rebecca from clawing at the shelves of gold.

"Yes, my Queen," Brady tried to placate the girl, but Rebecca didn't seem to hear him as she examined a necklace. "This is where we keep our treasures and more importantly, the Great Book."

Brady slipped beside her and removed something from a lower shelf. He placed it into Rebecca's outstretched arms...only for Rebecca to promptly double over, knees sinking to the concrete ground, and the book Brady gave her collapsing with a resounding _THUD! _

"What was that?" Rebecca asked.

"The Great Book," Brady said simply, bending down to retrieve the said object.

The Great Book was thicker than the average book, bound by a leather cover. The edges were frayed and yellow with age. To Brady, the weight of the book meant nothing but he dismissed it by reasoning that the girls weren't used to it. They also didn't have Sasquatch genes running through their veins but that was a revelation he suppressed even deeper.

Brady marched over to the couches and placed the book on the coffee table. "This will teach you all there is about Kinkow."

"So we left school only to get assigned reading?" Rebecca grumbled once she was on her feet. "Queens are too cool for that."

For the first time since yesterday, Brady saw Mikayla's features shift slightly. Her eyes brightened as she snickered but the expression and the sound disappeared just as quickly as they came.

Now that she had drawn his attention, Mikayla turned away from him and to the open vault. "What do these symbols mean?"

She didn't point but Brady could tell her eyes were fixated on the engravings carved into one of the shelves. Placed in a straight line across the wood were seven symbols: Ears twice as large as the average size, a pair of closed eyes, a perfect smile complemented by full lips, a forked tongue, a chin as sharp and pointed as a perfect triangle, a wide nose, and a domed forehead. As if in a trance, Brady stepped forward, allowing his fingers to trace over each carving. He explained each one as his hand moved across the shelf.

The ears. "Deception."

The eyes. "Ignorance."

The smile. "Greed."

The tongue. "Lust."

The chin. "Indifference."

The nose. "Gluttony."

The forehead. "Hubris."

When his words were met with silence, Brady explained, "Kinkow values the strength and power of the royal family. To ensure that its rulers are worthy of the throne, their flaws are determined right before they take the crown. These"-he gestured to the carvings-"are the seven sins."

"So, we have to take a test and if we get one of these sins, we're pretty much unfit to rule?" Rebecca asked.

"No test is required." Brady clarified. "But during your coronation ceremony, the shaman will determine which sins you embody. You won't be de-throned on the spot. Your parents were the previous rulers so you have the right to claim the throne."

"Then what's the point of revealing our sins?"

"To acknowledge that you weren't born perfect." Brady lowered his voice. "It does not mean you don't belong here. It is required of you as the ruler to recognize that and be able to grow despite your sin."

"Sounds like a lot of work." Rebecca said to no one in particular.

For once, Brady heard something different to her tone-something quieter and maybe self-conscious-but he couldn't be so sure. Within the next second, Rebecca was shuffling through a pile of gold bars. He sighed in defeat, watching as she walked towards the stairs, mumbling something about phoning a friend and finding access to the internet. Retaining her attention would perhaps be harder than protecting her.

"Brady?"

The boy turned at the sound of his name. Mikayla's eyes finally met his, fingers curling and uncurling at her sides. Brady had to concentrate a little harder to realize that she was bouncing slightly. "Yes, my Queen?"

"Thank you for what you said yesterday," Mikayla inhaled sharply. "Our aunt and uncle told us about our parents but I thought it was a story they made up to make us like them."

"They never told you about Kinkow?"

"Not really. But the way they talked about our parents made it sound like they were borrowing the plot to some tv show or something." Mikayla looked at the open vault. Her eyes swept over the gold bars, the silver accessories, stopping to linger particularly on the markings. "Thank you for telling me what actually happened to them."

Brady held his arm out before him. His fingers were mere inches away from Mikayla's shoulder. But he couldn't make himself touch her. What good would that do? According to the last two days, the girls had barely begun learning about their family and the future they would be in charge of. Years of history came crashing down on them the moment his dad went to retrieve them from their residence in Chicago. Along with the island, Brady was just a strange new idea they needed to get comfortable with.

He let his arm hover in the air long after Mikayla slipped away from him, leaving him alone in the throne room with an open vault and a deafening silence.

* * *

"Brady!"

The boy would not be one of Kinkow's top guards if he didn't correctly identify the high-pitched shout and the girl who came barreling towards him. And for the second time in one day, he avoided collision by maneuvering around his attacker.

Prior to this, Brady had been patrolling the castle's courtyard, seeing that the islanders safely took their positions before the low platform in the middle of the area. Now, standing before him in her blue and gold lined coronation uniform, was none other than one of the soon to be crowned Queens, Rebecca.

"Yes, my Queen?" He couldn't mask the sudden change in pitch he heard in his voice. While Rebecca's little attack didn't surprise him, the expression that took over her features certainly did.

Rebecca glanced frantically around the courtyard, perhaps noticing the crowd that stood not too far away. She grabbed Brady by the crook of his arm and dragged him into the corner behind a massive stone statue. She continued to throw quick glances over her shoulder while she spoke. "You'll help us no matter what, right?"

Brady's answer came immediately, "Of course. I swore to protect you."

He couldn't tell if it was his guard side or teenage boy side that was speaking.

"Good. Because I finished changing a few minutes and Mikayla wasn't there. I should've known she was going to do something like this but-" Rebecca shook her head. "I think Mikayla ran away and I don't know where she went."


End file.
